SOS
by treekit
Summary: In which Marco lives with Jean, and leaves the house for his College morning Classes at Exactly six o' clock.


"Erwin, Please, be reasonable! We must help him!"

Erwin looked down, cold eyes piercing and without mercy.

"No, he must be eradicated. Send out the troops."

"No! I won't let you! Get back! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

_Chink_

_Blam!_

* * *

Marco jerked awake, eyes wide and his breath ragged as the slow remnants of his dream trickled away from him.

But one thing remained.

"Jean..?" Marco whispered, his voice hoarse and he swore he felt his eyes stinging. A soft groan from across the room answered him.

"Mar..co? What is it?" Jean mumbled, turning his head toward him. In the dark, Jean's eyes looked a muddled golden-brown, and he shivered, wrapping the blankets around him tighter.

Marco smiled, close-lipped and gentle.

He knew he was safe now.

"N-Nothing Jean...Just wondering if you were awake..." He whispered quietly, his heart slowly returning to it's normal pace.

Jean rolled his eyes, sighed, and turned to face the wall, cocooning himself in blankets.

"Alright then, go back to fucking...sl...eep..." He mumbled out, before light snores told Marco he was back asleep.

Sighing, he sat up, leaning his back against the cold back-board of his bed, shivered running up his spine as his blanket fell onto his lap.

Running a hand through his hair, he glanced over at the electric clock, seeing that it was exactly twelve thirty-nine. A few more hours and he'd have to get up and get ready for his morning classes.

_...-..._

_BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BL-_

"God-damnit, Stupid fucking alarm..." Jean growled out, his hand reaching out to smash the alarm clocks button, effectively flickering out the electric digits that show the time.

"Oh seriously!? Fucking moherfucker...!" Jean hissed, glaring intently at the clock, before he scooted out of bed, bare feet touching the cold wooden floor of his dormitory.

"Jean! Breakfast!"

"Ho-fucking-rah.." Jean sighed out, standing up and shrugging off his blanket. He looked around his side of the room, books and clothes scattered lazily around.

Yep, Jean was not a morning person.

Picking up what was (hopefully) a clean shirt, Jean slipped that on over his head, deciding not to wear pants because he fucking didn't have any and Marco's were way to small and tight.

"Marcoooo, I need pants!" Jean called from the hallway, heading toward the kitchenette that all Dormitories had. Marco shook his head, smiling as he flipped an egg for Jean.

"I have some of your clean ones in the laundry hamper," Marco said, turning around and putting toast and eggs before Jean, sitting at the Dining table. He smirked, before eating the deliciously cooked Sunny-side up eggs sprinkled with salt and buttery toast.

"Anyway, I'm off for my Morning class, Don't be late, and pick up your room!" Marco called, opening up the front door to let in a gust of chilly December air. Jean frowned, before mumbling "Yes mom," and crossed his legs under the table.

The door slammed shut.

...-...

Marco sighed, rubbing his hands together as he trekked down the slick side-walks of Trost. His breath came out in crisp white puffs that blew back into his face, making his cheeks flush and his nose red. He adjusted the strap of his bag, slung over on shoulder. He stopped patiently at a green light, watching the cars zoom by with unnecessary speed.

Pulling his jacket tighter to him, Marco watched as the light flicked to a red, and everyone began crossing the road.

Except for him.

He couldn't.

Bright visions of red, screaming, someone shouting his name...

_Scrrrrrrrrrcchhhhhhhhhhhh_

Ice.

He felt the scream before it even reached his ears, his body flung backward as his hand whipped to the side, a disgusting array of metal crashing into human bones as-

_Crack_

he skidded across the icy pavement, blood smearing and everyone was so far away and silent...

_Marco._

He couldn't see who was calling him, and he didn't feel well, his left side ached.

_Marco...?_

Oh, That voice. Why did it sound so familiar?

_M...*sob*... Marco!_

Oh no, Jean, please don't cry. What did I do wrong?

And then a thought, crystal clear, Rung around in his mind.

Where was Jean?

He couldn't see him...

Everything's just so blurry and slow...

Oh hey, look...

"J-Je..nnnnn?"

"Oh my god, Marco...please, Look at me, _Look at me! Someone call and ambulance! SOMEONE CALL AND AMBULANCE!"_

"H...Hey...Y'll..is..n't...nice..." Marco garbled out, something red and bitter bubbling past his lips.

And then he smiled.

"Marco, shut the fuck up! MARCO! Look at me buddy, hey-"

A warm hand is gripping Marco's chin, forcing him to look at glowing golden orbs and nothing else.

Just the grey sky and vibrant golden orbs.

"You're gonna be okay, Marco? Marco..."

Jean leaned in close, hot wet tears dripping helplessly onto Marco's bloody and bruised face, his mouth wide in an soundless wail as he pulled Marco closer, his crying muffled by Marco's soft sweater.

_Gasp...gasp...shhh..._

Warm breath was tickling Jeans ear, coming in rushed and then a small 'Sh...' was whispered and his eyes riveted up to Marco's, watching as he smiled and only one eye crinkled at the edges, and Jean could only choke on his own breath.

And then he was gone.

The warmth trickled away from him as he held him closer, 'Marco' whispered from his mouth like a broken record as he clutched him closely, eyes squeezing shut as the limp body was dragged onto a stretcher.

He was gone.

And Marco then knew he was safe, with those vibrant golden orbs watching him.

...-...

Five days.

Five days was all it took for Jean to admit he loved Marco.

Marco...

Who was dead and gone, buried underneath some rough patch of dirty ground, carelessly tossed in there like a beautiful porcelain freckled doll.

And, Jean could only hope he died happy.

With just him as his last thought.


End file.
